This Thanksgiving a great majority of you probably gathered at your gammy's home to the sweet aroma of yams tainted with the awkwardness of your brother's girlfriend's appearance at this exclusive meal. You probably watched football even though you don't understand the rules and you probably thought the bulldog was going to win the Westminster Dog Show (I sure did anyway).
Well, the Lammerts took a different approach to Thanksgiving this year. We bucked tradition and headed to the coast--Galveston to be exact. We stayed in a condo right next to the ocean, actually. I am not really sure about the steps that led us to this decision. My sister, Johanna, and I were both tired of going to church on Thanksgiving (since it always made us miss the parade) and somehow that equaled going to Galveston and renting a condo...
Either way, we had a whale of a time (see what I did there?) and thankfully, we documented this trip with pictures.
Wednesday (Thanksgiving Eve):
Ah, to be By the Pea. This was the name of our condo, however, I found no such pea nearby. It must have been in the ocean. Regardless, as I saw this sign, I immediately felt at home.
That all changed when I walked into the actual condo. While the place truly had everything we needed, its decor carried with it a strong political message.
These flip flops were everywhere. These are just a few of the hundreds of chanclas in our condo. I spent the better part of this trip pondering their significance. While one might think that they merely symbolized fun and relaxation, I knew better. These flip flops (or "thongs" as my parents still call them) were a message to anyone who threatened the Galvestonian way of life. Flop or be flopped.
That night we had much debate about where we were going to eat. We had it narrowed down to two restaurants but the decision was clear after a Yelp.com review of a place called "Gaido's" which read: It stinks in there like 100 years of old men in leaky diapers have been chain smoking and puking up the disgusting food. Obviously, we just HAD to try it.
Just kidding. We didn't go there.
We went some other place that Johanna picked (and she made sure we didn't forget it). Delicious.
Below is a picture of a Shrimp Poor Boy, a flounder, and someone's MUG of wine.
As always, my dad told some pretty great stories which made me and Johanna's faces look like this:
And then my mom did this:
And we knew it was time to head back to our condo.
Back at the condo, I read the guestbook to see what others had thought of this place. One particularly enthusiastic entry gave me some high expectations for the following morning:
Thursday (The Big Show):
Unfortunately, when I stepped out onto the balcony in the morning I was met with the smell of feet. Oh well. It was THANKSGIVING.
That morning, Johanna busied herself in the kitchen while my parents ran all over Galveston looking for tacos, and I set to work on my great American duty: watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade in my Snuggie.
Pictured below is my plate of Thanksgiving goodness placed on our elegantly understated flip flop placemats:
And in case you were wondering, yes, that is a deep-fried redneck gobbler. We pulled out all the stops for this Thanksgiving.
Enjoying a feast fit for a flip flop-wearing king.
"I can't believe I ate the whole thing"
A good portion of my time after this was spent watching the Westminster Dog Show. Sidenote: The Westminster Dog Show is possibly the only reality show where I simply cannot predict the outcome. I have no idea how these dogs are scored and it is extremely disheartening. I had faith in the bulldog.
Later on, we drove to the beach.
Gross, right?
A possible alien invasion threatened our day...
...but we made it out alive.
That night, Johanna and I went to go see The Fantastic Mr. Fox (amazing) in a town called Texas City. Texas City has a clear dedication to the style, architecture, and technology of the year 1996. It also has a whole slew of rude people working at concession stands. Just saying...
That's me in a time-warp at the local Texas City cinema.
Friday:
We set off to achieve more educational goals the next day, so we went to a boat museum...it had a boat.
Jazzed about the BOAT.
Not so jazzed about boats.
While we were exploring the many secrets of this illusive boat, a demon family with tiny demon children joined us. These kids were so awful and loud and scary that it very nearly ruined our experience. At one point, my mom, Johanna, and I were below deck in some room when these kids ran in, unsupervised, screaming at a decibel that could destroy hearing. Seeing my mother wince in pain, I said to them "Hey guys, that is NOT cool." (kids hate not being cool) to which they responded with devilish belches and cackles. Parents, admonish your children when they act like the devil. Please.
These are the children practicing spitting. I am not being cute. That is actually what they were doing at one point.
After the thrill of the boat came an entirely different kind of adventure.
This picture was taken at "The Strand", Galveston's hippest and happeningest shopping district. The size of this massive trumpet stands as a symbol for The Strand...because IT BLOWS. There is nothing there, people drink on the streets like its Mardi Gras, and every store you go into sells either nasty tourist crap or nasty homegoods crap.
Jo made this. There was no "u" available, but I think the message is still pretty clear.
Even with Satan's minions and the unimpressive Strand, the Lammerts trucked through and managed to have a killer day.
Saturday (So long, city by the pea):
On the morning of our departure, we cleaned every flip-flopped nook and cranny of the condo. It was as if we had never been there.
My father already in the Christmas spirit as he packs up the car.
The Lammerts said one last goodbye to the sea and headed our separate ways (my parents back to San Antonio and myself and Johanna back to Austin).
This trip gave us new things to be thankful for. For example, I will never take closed-toed shoes for granted again. I now thank the good Lord nightly that my parents did not raise me to be a demon child who ruins the experience of a historical boat. But above all, I am thankful for my weird, weird family. We may not have a gammy, but we will always have Galveston.
and don't you forget it.
